Hope poems
/ page 301 of 439 /
The Maid-Martyr
© Jean Ingelow
Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?
Hongree and Mahry
© William Schwenck Gilbert
The sun was setting in its wonted west,
When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,
Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose,
Under the Wizard's Oak - old trysting-place
Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine.
To --------
© Anne Brontë
And if thy life as transient proved,
It hath been full as bright,
For thou wert hopeful and beloved;
Thy spirit knew no blight.
Different
© Edgar Albert Guest
I DON'T believe in worry, and it's foolish to despair,
And dreading what may happen never lightens any care;
Love: An Elegy
© Mark Akenside
At last the visionary scenes decay,
My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day,
Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road
In which my heedless feet securely trod,
And strip the phantoms of their lying charms
That lur'd my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms.
Star-Talk
© Robert Graves
'Are you awake, Gemelli,
This frosty night?'
'We'll be awake till reveillé,
Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemelli,
Alfred. Book V.
© Henry James Pye
As o'er the tented field the squadrons spread,
Stretch'd on the turf the hardy soldier's bed;
While the strong mound, and warder's careful eyes,
Protect the midnight camp from quick surprise,
A voice, in hollow murmurs from the plain,
Attracts the notice of the wakeful train.
Book Fourteenth [conclusion]
© William Wordsworth
In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
A Parental Ode to My Son, Aged 3 Years and 5 months
© Thomas Hood
Thou happy, happy elf!
(But stop,first let me kiss away that tear)
Thou tiny image of myself!
(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
Inscribed To The Pathetic Memory Of The Poet Henry Timrod
© Madison Julius Cawein
_Long are the days, and three times long the nights.
The weary hours are a heavy chain
Tatiana's Letter
© Alexander Pushkin
Allotted unto you was I
E'en from the moment of my birth
And loyal to my future fate;
And God, I know, sent you to be
My champion and my advocate
Till the grave closes over me. . . .
Tiber, Nile, And Thames
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THE head and hands of murdered Cicero,
Above his seat high in the Forum hung,
Mummy Wheat
© Edith Nesbit
LAID close to Death, these many thousand years,
In this small seed Life hid herself and smiled;
So well she hid, Death was at least beguiled,
Set free the grain--and lo! the sevenfold ears!
Outside The Village Church
© Alfred Austin
``The old Church doors stand open wide,
Though neither bells nor anthems peal.
Gazing so fondly from outside,
Why do you enter not and kneel?
Lights Along the Mile
© Alfred Thomas Chandler
THE NIGHT descends in glory, and adown the purple west
The young moon, like a crescent skiff, upon some fairy quest,
The Paradox Of Time
© Henry Austin Dobson
Time goes, you say? Ah no!
Alas, Time stays, we go;
Or else, were this not so,
What need to chain the hours,
For Youth were always ours?
Time goes, you say?-ah no!
Say, What Is Honour?--Tis The Finest Sense
© William Wordsworth
SAY, what is Honour?--'Tis the finest sense
Of 'justice' which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offence
A Vernal Hymn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE fresh spring burgeons into bloom--
And Earth with all her vernal charms
Lies like a queenly bride enclasped
Within her heavenly bridegroom's arms;
